


i could stay here all night and watch the clouds fall from the sky

by vikitty



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vikitty/pseuds/vikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Rain Gods. Fluffy smut. This is a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i could stay here all night and watch the clouds fall from the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storieswelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storieswelove/gifts).



> Originally published Feb 24, but I decided to continue on. It got smutty. Oops.

River’s shoes are half-full of water as they stumble through the TARDIS door together. Or rather, try to – the umbrella is still open, and it takes the Doctor a few seconds to figure out how to close it. Once it’s down, she shoves him into the safety of the TARDIS. The door closes behind them, and she collapses back against it, out of breath and still laughing. There's a towel hanging on the railing and she grabs it before he can.

“Well. That could have gone worse,” she says drily, reaching up to wring the water from her hair.

He does the same, running his hands vigorously through his hair and spraying water everywhere, rather like a dog does. “I had a plan!”

“That wasn’t a plan! That was just luck!” River insists, flinging the towel at him with mild irritation. “I’d prefer not to end up as a human sacrifice, thank you!”

The Doctor grins and drapes the towel around his neck before grabbing her hand and pulling her close to him. “Now, Doctor Song, did you ever really worry that I’d let anything happen to you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Doctor, I assure you, I can look after myself.”

“Not saying you couldn’t.” He reaches out to brush a wet curl of hair aside and tuck it behind her ear. “I’m just giving you the facts: I will not let anything happen to you.”

River feels the air around them shift; very rarely does the Doctor speak so frankly to her. His concern is touching, his unspoken love is precious, but really, she’s not one for long heart-to-hearts – or rather hearts-to-hearts – and so she reaches out as well, mirroring him, to straighten his bow tie.

“Well, now that we’ve managed to anger another alien race, barely avoided death, and hopefully reached the ed of your book of rubbish plans, I could do with a hot shower,” she suggests saucily, just to watch his cheeks redden.

“Yes, well, go right ahead, dear,” he sputters, and River curls her fingers around either end of the towel around his neck.

“Come along, sweetie,” she says with a sigh, giving him a firm tug towards her until they’re nose to nose. She can feel his breath on her lips and for a moment they stand there, frozen in time, the water dripping off the ends of her hair and his clothing, before she pats him fondly on the cheek and brushes past him.

“It’s called conserving water,” she jokes, glancing over her shoulder to confirm that he’s following her, slipping in his wet boots.

“It’s called… oh, I don’t even know what it’s called,” the Doctor sighs, doing his best to sound distressed by the concept of sharing a shower. But when the TARDIS directs them towards the bathroom, already clouded over with hot steam, he makes a beeline for hot water before she can remove a scrap of his clothing.

River rolls her eyes and starts shedding the layers of wet clothes off of herself as she watches him tinker with the water temperature and pressure, and by the time he turns his attention back to her, she’s standing there with her arms folded, naked but for the smirk on her face. And a fair amount of gooseflesh on her chilled skin.

“Oh.” The Doctor says it as an exhale, the corners of his mouth threatening to turn up in a smirk of his own.

“At what point did you think I meant shower with our already wet clothes on, sweetie?” she asks, and the Doctor scratches his cheek nervously. It’s still early days for him, but this isn’t the first time he’s seen her like this. Still, it’s clearly early enough that he’s completely flummoxed by how to deal with it.

The smirk breaks free, he grabs her around her middle and pulls her close. “Well, you know, buttons, buckles, bowties… it’s all rather complicated.”

“Oh, I can help with that…” she says with a smile, and her toes curl in anticipation when he kisses her. His hands slide easily over her naked back as hers start sorting out the buttons on his waistcoat. His arms encircle her waist as she slips his waistcoat off and then slides her fingers under his braces, pulling gently at him until he releases her and frees his arms. The result is that he’s flapping his arms awkwardly trying to shake them loose, and she bursts into laughter at how ridiculous he looks, her giggles muffled against his lips as he refuses to break the contact.

She knows it’s early because of how much laughter there is between them, even in the more intimate moments like this. Her Doctor still smiles, still giggles, still blushes, so much a child and yet when he yanks off his bowtie and tosses it onto the wet tile to join his trousers, he’s so very much a man, a god, an impossibility.

River pushes him against the wall, the water soaking through the last bits of clothes he’s still wearing that had only begun to dry from the rain. He makes a soft sound of surrender as she takes control, her fingers wrenching the buttons free of his shirt and letting it drop to the ground in a wet heap with the rest of his clothes,

“Shall I scrub your back, then?” he mumbles into her mouth as she presses up against him. “I’m really good at that.”

River shakes her head, water flying off of her hair, and grins. “Not all showers have to involve getting clean, dear.”

“You dirty girl,” the Doctor practically growls, and River can’t tell if he’s aroused or amused. Perhaps both. Both are good. She sinks her mouth down onto his once more, her fingers pressing into his slick skin as his hands traverse over every inch of hers in response. His hands grasp her bottom and she grinds into him, which elicits another growl from his throat.

Their kisses transform from being playful and teasing into something fuelled by urgency and hunger. He licks along her bottom lip until she opens her mouth eagerly, her breath pouring into him. She’d give every part of herself to him, if he’d only let her. But he still has his secrets and she has her own, so for now this is all she can give him. Her love, her trust, her hearts.

His hands grip her arse and lift her up slightly; with her legs wrapped around his thighs he lets the momentum propel them both across to the opposite wall; River feels the press of cool tile against her back before the Doctor’s hot mouth is latched onto her neck, licking droplets of water off of her skin and his teeth scraping over her pulse point. The cool blue and green colours of the shower fade away as her eyes close in contentment, replaced by the soft golden glow of the time vortex, of space, of him. Her Doctor.

He groans into her skin; she can feel him pressing insistently against her thigh and she weaves her fingers into his unruly hair, pushing it away from his face, and leans her head back languidly. “Oh, get on with it, then.” She cheekily opens one eye to look at him, and he smirks right back at her as his fingers glide over her inner thigh, aided by the water and steam swirling around them.

900 years have gifted him with an infinite amount of patience; River is not so fortunate. Even as his fingers easily slide into her, it’s still not enough, and she whines his name faintly, fingernails scratching at his shoulders. The Doctor just smiles against her neck, his breath feathering against her skin, and curls his fingers in a way that makes her curse and buck her hips sharply against his hand.

“Oh, I hate you,” she hisses, and he giggles, pulling back slightly to watch her, delight and awe in his eyes as he watches her react to his touch.

“You don’t,” he murmurs, nudging her thighs further apart as he focuses intently on his goal, which she knows given his stubborn determination is to get her off, spectacularly. She feels it building within her, that golden glow of ecstasy and exhilaration tightening smaller and smaller until it snaps, sending sparks flying and River flying over the edge and into his arms.

He holds her close, supporting her full weight and burying his face into her hair as she shudders.

“You don’t hate me,” he repeats, and she can hear that ridiculous grin in his voice. She weakly bats his hand away from her breasts with a throaty chuckle.

“Give me a moment, sweetie,” she laughs, all too aware of his predicament. When she finally loosens her grip on his shoulders and raises her head, he kisses her again. This time it’s slower, longer, his hand cradling her cheek as he eases into her. She bites his lip.

“What was that for?” he pouts, his forehead resting against hers as they both take a moment to adjust, to enjoy.

“I was aiming for my own. Now shut up and move,” she teases him, and the Doctor rolls his eyes in mock indignance before obliging, hips rolling into hers. River moans quietly, pulling him closer, always closer, until she’s sure she might actually be melting into him due to the heat of their bodies and the water still pouring down over them.

Every time she’s with him, like this, it’s different. They’re never on even ground; someone is always a bit further on than the other. Their first times – because there had been two versions of it, hers and his – had been wonderfully awkward and poignant all at the same time, and each time since has been easier, emotionally. She tries not to think of the fact that one day, she might be making love to someone who’s practically a stranger to her.

But this, this is sublime. They’re close enough in sync that the banter, the flirting, the effortless shedding of clothes and of nerves makes it seem so… wonderfully normal.

But of course, this is the Doctor, and this is their fractured love story – a patchwork quilt of firsts and lasts, of love and hatred, of time and space. They can never be normal.

When she comes, she sees stars. Not just stars, but entire galaxies, entire universes. She sees the infinite possibilities that lie ahead in their future. So long as he lets her close to him like this, they’ll face all of it together. She feels him tremble in her arms as he reaches his own finish, and she wonders if he ever sees the same thing in their future. He’s a time traveller, surely he has some idea of what is ahead. Spoilers.

He presses a kiss to the curve of her shoulder before resting his cheek atop it, looking up at her with satisfaction written all over his ridiculous face. River grumbles a little under the weight of him, but manages to shuffle them over as the water automatically cuts off.

She shoves a fluffy blue towel in his face.

He sticks his tongue out at her before wrapping it around his hips and pinching her on the arse.

As they slip and slide on the wet floor together in a race to the bedroom, he grabs her hand to keep her from stumbling and that word once more flickers through her mind.

_Normal._

And how nice it would be if this was something that could last.


End file.
